


A People-Saving Thing

by unladenswallow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23309854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unladenswallow/pseuds/unladenswallow
Summary: Being the Master of Death wasn't as great as it sounds. Shoved into an new world in his teenage body, Harry Potter was told to stop the bloody storm because it was creating too much work for Death to keep up with.Having no clue what that means, Harry Potter decides that retirement sounds like a great idea when suddenly a grey-haired witcher turns up on his doorstep.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Harry Potter
Comments: 45
Kudos: 460





	1. Geralt meet Harry, Harry meet Geralt

Geralt almost missed it as he strode quickly through the ruinous old town, heading straight towards the Princess's crypt. He would have missed it altogether if it had not been for the vibration of his witcher's pendant. Amongst the crumbling old town stood a single stone-built house in excellent condition. With window frames painted red or gold, smoke leisurely coming out the chimney and two small, but well-tended gardens of different flowers on either side of the doorstep let him know that other than the striga, there still lived at least one other person in Old Vizima.

Looking at the house with his pendant still vibrating, Geralt couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he'd been wrong about who had cast the curse on the unborn Princess. Whoever lived within the house obviously was able to wield magic, and had clearly lived in the centre of the striga's territory for an extended period. Maybe the one who cast the curse lived within the house and stayed to ensure that the curse remained unbroken.

Unsheathing his steel sword, he walked towards the house and pounded heavily on the thick wooden door.

"Just a minute," called a young male voice, "I'm in the back garden."

Once again, Geralt found himself a little discombobulated from the casual response. Usually, when he knocked on a door in such a threatening way, he had to chase after whoever was inside when they run out the back door. The sound of footsteps reassured him that this would not be a repeat of his previous experience.

With a click of the lock turning, the wooden door swung open to reveal a short gangly teenager, with black hair and thick glasses covering emerald green eyes staring up at him.

"Ah yes, how can I help you?" the teenager asked nonchalantly while wiping dirt off of his hands with a wet rag, paying no notice to the long steel sword in Geralt's hand.

"What are you doing here?" Geralt asked demandingly, his low growl in covering the confusion in his voice.

"Presently? Well, I'm currently pulling the weeds out of my pumpkin patch to prevent them stealing the nutrients my growing pumpkins needs. Why?"

"You are living in the centre of a striga's territory, and you aren't dead. Very convenient location if you want to maintain the curse over her." Geralt blatantly accused the younger man, getting ready to move at the slightest provocation.

"A striga?! So that is what she is!," the strange kid exclaimed with a hint of frustration, "I've been trying to figure that out for ages."

Without saying a word, he spun around and walked into the next room with Geralt quickly following behind.

"For the past year, I've been trying to confirm what type of species she is. A striga never crossed my mind," he exclaimed as he picked up a thick book of bound paper and began to scribble in it with an ink pen, "would have never of thought of a striga."

Geralt examined the stranger before him and knew that this wasn't the person guilty of casting the curse. He was obviously too insane.

"Why has she not killed you yet?" he asked curiously while sheathing his sword.

"Oh, she dearly wanted to at the start. Spent most the night howling at my door trying to come in and rip me to pieces," the stranger fondly recalled as he finished writing in his little book before placing it back on a beautiful ornate desk. "Over time, she started getting used to my presence. She just visits now and again to huff at me. I think it annoys her that I'm not scared of her."

"You didn't answer the question."

"Oh, sorry. What was the question again?"

"How are you still alive? The striga kills everyone else who enters the village on a full moon."

"Ah, yes. Well, I think she is scared of me. She hisses every time she sees me unexpectedly before running away."

Geralt was speechless; it was a novel feeling for a man who had never been so before.

"So, are you here to try and kill the striga as well? I recommend against it. No-one has gotten so much as a scratch on her before."

"Have many tried?"

"A couple a year will give it a go. Usually wake me up with their screams before she finishes with them."

"You don't try to help them?"

"Nah, I don't do that anymore. Trying to save people from themselves gets tiring after a while. If people want to walk into a town where a man-eating beast lives on the one night she is out; then they deserve what they get."

Geralt suddenly felt a little bit warmer towards this strange kid.

"Oh, forgive my rudeness. I'm Harry Potter. A pleasure to meet you..."

"Geralt. Geralt of Rivia."

And that was how Geralt of Rivia, the renowned witcher, met Harry Potter, a strange and unknown teenager. It was a meeting that caused a number of people no small amount of pain.


	2. They could wait.

It was the complete lack of strength in his body that prevented Geralt from punching Harry in the face when he woke up. Rational thought would predicate that if a heavily injured witcher were waking after a fierce battle, one would want to give him plenty of space. Instead, Geralt found Harry's face inches away from his own, staring unblinkingly into his eyes.

"Congratulations, I thought you would be next to fertilise my garden. Instead, you've defied the odds and pulled through. Death must like you as much as he does me." the gangly teenager cheered before disappearing from view.

Letting out the groan that had been pushing to come out, Geralt turned his to observe his surroundings and found himself where he had fallen in the Princess's crypt. Harry was across the other side of the room where a bedraggled girl clothed in a simple dress was looking blankly around the room as if she were seeing it for the first time. Snapping his fingers, Harry got the girls attention, and through a lot of miming and arm gestures, the two of them sat down on the cold stone floor.

"Is that...?" Geralt croaked out, the taste of blood and stale potion still lingering in his mouth. 

"Adda, yes. Poor girl doesn't seem to remember anything. Saying that though, with her history that may just be the best thing for her, " Harry tutted, and then began wondering when he had turned into Molly Weasley.

"The King..." Geralt began but was silence with a dismissive wave of Harry's hand. 

"Yes, yes. The old man is out in the main square causing no end of ruckus, scared off one of my hens, that idiot," he sighed as he gently ran a glowing hand over Adda's scars making them disappear. The more he healed, the more relaxed she became and incrementally leaned towards the healing energy.

"I've locked the gates to the crypt so they can't get in just yet. I have a feeling that both of you need to be in better condition before you have to deal with them.'

Heaving himself to a seated position, Geralt remained silent as he observed the magic being cast before him. He had a feeling that this was the first gentle and positive interaction Adda had experienced since being in the womb. Both he and King Foltest could wait a little longer.

"I gather I have you to thank for my healing as well?" Geralt asked once Harry had finished healing Adda and had pulled out a loaf of bread. 

Breaking it in half, Harry threw one half to Geralt and carefully handed the other to the girl who was sniffing curiously at it.

"Your blood and battered body was quite a distraction for her. I wasn't able to calm her down until I was able to do away with the smell and the sight of your gore all over the place. Next time, you should be more careful," the teenager sniffed.

Unable to help himself, Geralt let out a low chuckle before taking a large bite out of the loaf of bread.

"I thought you were no longer interested in saving people?" Geralt questioned as he chewed.

Harry didn't answer for a moment, letting himself be engaged with pouring a sweet-smelling mixture out of a water skin into three large cups.

"I'm not. Not those who can save themselves but are too stupid or stubborn to do so. But she is different. She is an innocent that has never been given a chance even before she was born. Except, for you," Harry replied before turning to look at the witcher.

"Every person that has come to face the striga either wanted to kill her or as a stupid thrill-seeking adventure. None had sought to help her until you. You, Geralt of Rivia, can see where the true evil is in this world. There is much the world still needs to learn from you."

Taking another large bite from the loaf of bread, Geralt chewed contemplatively as he watched Harry begin to teach Adda how to drink out of a cup.

"You are a lot older than you look, aren't you?" he asked, but the only reply given by the other was a sly smile and a wink. 

"So, what will you do now? Once the Princess is returned to her father, the people will slowly begin to return to the city?"

"I don't know really. I'll have to wait and see what happens when they do so. You never know, could end up being a good thing."

"From my experience, it won't be." Geralt warned eating the last morsel of his bread left.

Harry let out a loud laugh startling Adda with the suddenness of loud noise.

"Don't worry about me witcher; I'm a survivor."


	3. Reunion

“THE ANSWER IS NO, SO KINDLY TELL THE MAYOR TO FUCK RIGHT OFF.” A loud yell echoed out from them room behind the door. 

Despite holding the limp and wheezing Jaskier, blood still pouring from his mouth, Geralt couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit relieved that his intuition had been right. When Chireadan had mentioned two mages in the town, one powerful, malicious and cunning, the other strange and awkward but an accomplished healer newly arrived to the village staying in the local inn. Geralt had thought he recognised who he thought the second mage might be.

“Harry, open up! Geralt yelled as the pounded on the door again, almost stumbling forward when it suddenly swung open.

“Geralt?” Harry asked surprised at the familiar face before him. 

Before he could say anything else, Geralt pushed past him into the room, hauling Jaskier with him and onto a large red padded armchair that was positioned in front of the roaring fireplace.

“Of course, Geralt. Come right in, so nice to see you after you got me run out of my home.” Harry grumbled shutting the door and barring it closed. There was always trouble whenever he and Geralt somehow ended up bumping into each other. Better to be cautious than regretful later on.

“I fished a wizard-sealed bottle out of the river, which Jaskier here opened. It contained a djinn and Jaskier made his first two wishes before the djinn lashed out. We were able to get help from an elf healer but he said Jaskier needed magical healing in order to live.” Geralt explained looking expectantly at the wizard, impatient for him to heal his sort of friend.

“When I was younger, I had a friend that used to complain that shit always happened to him. He was wrong of course, it always happened to me back then. But, I’m glad to see the forces of chaos have moved on to a more worthier subject,” Harry mused thoughtfully heading over towards the pale and limp body sitting in his favourite transfigured chair.

Geralt didn’t reply but gave a look that would have made many a stronger man falter but only made Harry snicker.

“It’s alright Peacock, you’ll be just fine.” the wizard soothed Jaskier as he began running a glowing hand over Jaskier’s throat.

“Peacock?” Jaskier burbled confused.

“If a man dresses like a peacock, I’ll name him a peacock,” Harry replied absentmindedly as he concentrated on healing the magical damage in the bards’ throat, “Geralt, I need you to go down to the innkeeper and purchase a jug of clean water, an apple, a loaf of bread, some meat and soft cheeses.”

Without questioning the strange items requested, Geralt unlocked the door and left the room.

“So, you have made two wishes so far, have you?” Harry asked reaching down to grasp Jaskier’s arm with his spare hand and turned it over, “any pain in your arm? Any strange painful marks appear after you made your wish?”

“No,” Jaskier croaked and was surprised to find the pain in his throat greatly decreased, “just my throat.”

“Interesting.” Harry murmured and said nothing more until Geralt returned carrying the requested food items.

“Just put them on the table please,” Harry asked before doing one last scan of Jaskier’s throat and pulling away, “well Peacock, I have healed you as best I could. Geralt, your turn.”

Geralt, who had been reaching out to take a piece of meat, frowned at the approaching mage.

“I’m uninjured.”

“I’m calling bullshit on that,” Harry scoffed grabbing Geralt’s arm and twisting it around to show the long dark burn-like injury on his arm, “this is a magical burn, Mr I-am-so-tough. If you leave it, the wound will not heal but spread and eventually infect your whole arm. So stay still while I heal this up.”

A surprised rasp of laughter came from the armchair and Jaskier grinned cheekily at Geralt.

“I take it you know our grey-haired witcher well then, good sir.” the previously injured man inquired, his voice hoarse and rough.

“This is not the first time Geralt of Rivia has come bursting through my door.” Harry replied dryly as he finished healing the last of the wound.

Geralt ripped his arm away from the younger man with an annoyed grunt and stalked over towards the food on the table.

“Oh ho, I believe I hear a story in that.” Jaskier cajoled before casting a pleading look at Geralt for him to pass some food, which Geralt heeded by throwing an apple at his face.

“Indeed, and one I will most happily share, but will have to do so tomorrow afternoon,” Harry agreed, he could only imagine the dirt that Jaskier would be to share on Geralt. Even Harry had heard of the witcher and bard travelling together from the patrons of the some inns he had stayed at.

Walking over to the table, Harry grabbed the loaf of bread and wrapped some meat and cheese in a clean wrap before placing them into a knapsack that hung unnoticed off the chair next to Geralt.

“Before you both so rudely interrupted my evening I was about to go into the nearby forest and gather some herbs that only bloom on the night of a full moon. So, please enjoy my room for the night. Peacock, drink plenty of that water to help heal your throat quicker, Geralt, no whores in my bedroom.”

Putting on the knapsack, Harry began to head towards the exit when Geralt called for him to stop.

“I’ll come with you,” the witcher said picking up his swords, “you’ll probably end up in nekker nest knowing your luck.”

“Uh, who is the one that just messed with a djinn today? Not me,” Harry protested and waved for Geralt to stop, “no, you and Peacock stay here. If you and I were to go into a forest together the world may just fall apart. Anyway, as I’ve told you before witcher. I’m a survivor, I’ll be fine.”

And without another word, and before Geralt could protest, Harry was out the door and down the staircase. 

Letting out an annoyed sigh, the witcher grabbed a piece of cheese when a loud crunching sound interrupting his thoughts. 

Sitting across from him, Jaskier was smirking knowingly at him while loudly chewing the apple with his mouth open.

“Shut up, Peacock.” 

Harry walked as swiftly as he could through the forest trying to get to the elven ruins before the moon reached its zenith.

He had been planning this trip to this shitty little town for the past two weeks. The lingering magic from the destroyed elven temple would give him just enough power to enact the ritual he’d needed to finally get some bloody answers. Potter luck being what it was, although this time it could be witcher luck instead, Geralt and friend had interrupted him before he could leave the inn on time.

Breaking through the grove of trees, he entered into the crumbling on temple that had fallen in on itself, and with a wave of the deathstick, the ruins leaped back up into their proper location until a pristine elven temple once again stood proudly before him. Running inside, Harry could feel the magic in the surrounding area began the pulse heavily, faster and faster like a racing heartbeat. Knowing he was out of time, he withdrew the silver dagger etched with ruins and with one swift and deep cut slit his own throat.

“Bit dramatic don’t you think m’boy?”

Harry didn’t reply, but just glared angrily at the Dumbledore figure before him. Geralt had repeatly demonstrated how effective a silence mixed with a threatening glare could be.   
Why death kept coming to him as his old schoolboy headmaster each time Harry died, he didn’t know but it was beginning to become a little creepy.

“You have gone through such effort to seek an audience with me to only sit and pout like a child? Seems like a bit of a waste to me.” FakeDumbledore said stroking his long white beard.

“I was over 150 years old when I died. I was supposed to cross over to the otherside and rest in the islands of the blessed with all my dead relatives and friends.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t work like that.” Death interrupted but Harry continued speaking over the other being more loudly.

“Instead, I wake up butt naked in my scrawny 17 year old body, in dusty old crypt with a striga inside it after having been told to stop a ruddy storm. You stop the storm, I want my fucking blessed island.”

“As I said, it doesn’t work like that. Well, at least for you it doesn’t,” Death sighed and waved Harry over to sit with him on one of the benches that was on Platform 93/4, “you were 17 years old when you united the Hallows. In that moment, you did not become the ‘Master of Death’ as was so often theorised by your peers, but instead you my avatar. Embodied with my power over life and death itself. When you cast aside the Hallows, you cast aside the ability to access that power and so I had no claim over you throughout your life. It was upon your death of old age that my power within you was awakened and I could call upon your service, which I did.”

“To stop a storm? Merlin’s hairy ballsack, just cast a Cloud Clearing charm yourself. It can’t be that difficult.”

“Why you wizards swear by a long dead person’s anatomy I will never know,” Death mused out loud causing Harry to glare at him again.

“This storm can not be removed by any existing magic on either your new or old world. It is an interdimensional storm that is moving one world to another and destroying it until all life can not exist. It is causing death on a wide scale before its victims fated time and is causing the delicate balance of power to tip.”

“And what happens if it tips over?”

“Destruction, beyond what even you can imagine. Everything will go dark and only chaos will exist. Chaos that will eventually tip over even into the realms of the dead, and then, existence itself will end.”

“So why don’t you stop it?”

“Because if I do so myself, that also will tip the balance, but as my avatar embodied with my power, you can do so and restore balance once again.”

Harry swore and stared longingly at the red and black train before him. As much as he wanted to jump on and pass on to the other side, he knew he wouldn’t.

“If I do this, as soon as I have accomplished killing this Godzilla of a storm, I get to retire to my blessed island of honey sweet fruit and I am no longer under your power.”

“Excellent, we have a deal then.”

Harry suddenly flinched back, hissing loudly in pain as a long burn mark appeared on his arm.

“Messing around with djinn’s Harry? That never goes well.”

“It’s not me who is doing it,” Harry hissed clamping a hand over the burn, “you better send me back. I have a feeling a friend of mine is about to do something foolish.”


	4. Abreast of the situation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a filler chapter while I work on the next part.

The gusting wind slowly died down, leaving Yennefer gasping for breath on the floor half-naked with Geralt grasping the door frame to keep himself upright.

"Ah, Geralt, glad to see you're a 'breast' of the situation." sniggered a voice behind him.

Groaning, Geralt rolled his eyes. Of course, this would be the situation that Harry would walk into after the djinn had left. The wizard had a strange knack of catching Geralt at the most embarrassing or awkward of moments.

"I was worried there would be mass panic; rioting peasants, panicking lords and ladies, people flailing around all 'tits' akimbo."

"What does that even mean?" Geralt questioned turning to look at the other man before stilling in shock for a half a second. 

Lunging forward, he grabbed the wizard by the front of his shirt, tearing it open and roaming his hands frantically across smooth, unbroken skin.

"What the? " Harry yelped and began slapping at the frantic hands on him, trying to push the Witcher away, "what are you doing? That was my second favourite shirt!"

"The blood, there is blood all over you!" Geralt hissed easily overpowering the shorter man in his frantic search, "where are you wounded? I can't find it!"

"It's fine. I'm fine. I healed it!" Harry yelped scrambling away after gently pushing Geralt back with his magic.

"Who did it, that type of arterial spray...." Geralt trailed off worriedly.  
He had never known anyone to be able to get so close to the wizard and succeed in harming him. More than once, he had seen Harry easily use his magic to defend himself and allow no person nor monster near him.

"It was a rabbit," Harry snapped, the tone of his voice expressing his clear annoyance with the other as he tried to rearrange his shirt, "oh, that is quite a lot of blood, isn't it. I don't think I'll be able to fix this one. Damn it; now I'll have to go back to the tailors to see if they can make another one."

"A rabbit?" the dubious look on Geralt's face clearly expressed how likely he found the given explanation.

"Yes, clearly it was a type of vampiric rabbit." Harry said, his eyes focused on his shirt, avoiding the agitated Witcher, "Don't worry, I got my revenge and was able to heal myself up. Rabbit soup for dinner?"

"What in the God's name is going on?" hissed a raspy voice behind both men. 

Spinning around, both men watched a thoroughly dishevelled Yennefer stagger to her feet, her eyes piercing through them like daggers.

"Ah, you must be the mean and malicious Yennefer the Sorceress. I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I believe you have met Geralt; I hope he hasn't been too much of a bore. He can be a bit of a boob at times." Harry said with a cheerful grin only to be swatted upside the head by the Witcher.

Face twisting into an angry snarl, Yennefer threw out her hands and with a blast of power, sending Harry flying back outside the house before landing in a half-dried mud puddle. 

"Mean and malicious, yeah that's definitely her." he groaned under his breath as he slowly sat up.

"Master Wizard, are you ok?" called an elf who came running over to him with Jaskier close behind.

"Yes, yes," Harry chuckled while taking the outstretched hands both men had extended to help him up out of the mud puddle, "this isn't the first time I've been kicked out of the house by an angry witch."

"Should we go to Geralt to render assistance?" Jaskier asked worriedly looking at the door to the house which had slammed closed after Harry had flown out of it.

Clapping a muddy hand down on the bard's shoulder, Harry grinned and shook his head.

"Knowing Geralt, this is the one battle he is more than willing to plough through on his own. Whether or not he comes out on top though is another matter entirely." 

Chuckling, the wizard began walking back towards the inn while Jaskier looked after him confused until the elf pointed to the something through windows of the house.

Understanding came quickly and soon after both elf and bard followed after the chuckling muddy wizard.


End file.
